


Pub Fiction

by 51stCenturyFox



Category: Torchwood
Genre: M/M, drunkfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 03:18:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/37244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/51stCenturyFox/pseuds/51stCenturyFox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack makes sure Ianto gets home. Because he just can't drive in that state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pub Fiction

**Author's Note:**

> Oneshot drunk!fic with a bit of fluffy fluff. Beta thanks to copperbadge (This fic is also his _fault_.) :D

"So, what's the..." Ianto trailed off, distracted by the sodium lights shining into the side windows of the taxi, or Rihanna on the radio, or the minute hairs on the back of his own hand, which gripped the headrest behind Mr "Fozzie" Patel (according to the plastic ID tag hanging from the rear-view mirror).

"FOZZIE," Ianto stage-whispered, then burst into laughter.

"Shh," Jack cautioned. "Just... we're almost back at your flat." He patted Ianto's shoulder. "Sorry," he said to "Fozzie", who no doubt wasn't listening to the drunk in the backseat, since he was singing along with the radio. Something about Rihanna's umbrella, ella, eh, eh, eh... Jack regretted that the SUV's engine had picked tonight to seize up, so when Ianto rang him 15 minutes earlier, a taxi it was.

"Ianto."

"Wha?" he answered, lips damp and parted. Jack wanted to plant one on him right there in the back of the cab, but he thought it might freak Fozzie out.

"We're here." Jack bundled Ianto out of the taxi and paid the driver, apologising as he held Ianto upright with one hand against the side of the car. "Come on," he took Ianto's hands and pulled him towards his building, with a glance backward to ensure he didn't step into a shrubbery and end the evening with property damage. He was pretty sure it wouldn't end with anything else. Taking advantage of Ianto in his more-than-tipsy state would probably be _wrong,_ Jack told himself.

But when he unlocked the door to the flat and Ianto perked up and began shimmying out of his trousers in the living room, then tripped and tumbled onto the sofa on top of Jack because he'd neglected to take his shoes off first, Jack changed his mind.

Jack leaned down to pull Ianto's shoes off (the laces were perhaps irretrievably knotted) and shrugged out of his coat.

"Are you hot?" Ianto asked.

"I don't know. Am I?" Jack answered with that ought-to-be-patented Harkness grin. "You tell me."

Ianto rolled his head forward then reached out with his fingers. "You've got long eyelashes. They're making shadows," he slurred. Jack captured his hand to avoid being poked in the eye and regarded Ianto with a serious look.

"You should probably go to sleep. You're completely hammered."

"I know!" Ianto crooned. "I had gin with Tosh but she left after two. So I had more gins." He moved onto Jack's lap and leaned his face forward. "C'mon, Jack, 'm having fun. Be fun."

Jack thought that sounded like a challenge. He took Ianto's chin in one hand and drew him forward, just by a few centimetres.

"You going t' kiss me, Jack?" Ianto whispered.

"Aww, ruin the surprise," Jack chided. He leaned in and tilted his head before pressing his lips to Ianto's soundly. They opened like petals and Ianto's tongue was warm and willing and tasted vaguely of juniper berries. It was pleasant, actually. Jack didn't drink anymore, but the flavour of secondhand liquor was something else, a cinematic memory of speakeasies he'd never actually experienced himself. As Ianto freed his hand and moved it to fumble with Jack's mother-of-pearl shirt buttons, he didn't resist. Instead he shifted slightly and flexed his hips upward with one strategically-placed thrust.

"Oh," Ianto said, pausing.

"Uh huh."

"So you'd take advantage of somebody under the influence, then?" Ianto asked, and then Jack gasped as Ianto pressed his lips to his collarbone and sucked softly at his skin.

"Think I might break that personal rule tonight, yes," Jack answered softly, before going to work on Ianto's own buttons with more precise efforts than his partner could manage. He actually still (mostly) intended to undress Ianto and tuck him into bed, perhaps with a bin liner in a mop bucket nearby just in case. "You don't think you're going to be sick, are you?" Jack asked.

"Nope. Not sick. I'm just..." Ianto flopped backward, shirt open. "...just. No. I'm. The White Hart. Nice pub. Yup. I'm fantastic."

"That's good to hear." Jack unfastened Ianto's cufflinks and slipped his shirt off. The t-shirt could stay on. He pulled Ianto's tangled trousers away from his ankles and attempted to lay them on the arm of the sofa neatly instead of dropping them in a messy pile.

"You're taking my clothes off," Ianto said, and Jack almost laughed at the sheer wonder in his voice.

"Yeah."

"Yeah, c'mon." Ianto tried to pull Jack down above him, but his hands slipped to Jack's side and grasped at the fabric of his starched shirt. "Come _on_, Jack. Take that off too."

And Jack couldn't really see the harm. He'd strip down to his underclothes and stay the night. Ianto was likely to conk out anyhow. And the thought of cosying up under a duvet was tremendously appealing after the earlier chill of the night air. "Okay. Let's get you into your bedroom." Jack pulled Ianto upright and threw his arm over his own shoulder, then walked him over to the hall and Ianto's bed. They fell onto the surface together... Ianto above him again.

"This seems oddly familiar," Jack said, and Ianto laughed as if it were the most hilarious move ever. "God, Ianto. It wasn't that funny. I'll have to feed you gin more often so you'll laugh at my jokes." Jack pulled his braces down and took off his own shirt, then slipped out of his trousers and tossed them onto a chair. He slid into bed and settled behind Ianto, ran a hand down his arm, and settled it around Ianto's waist. "Now, go to sleep," he said. "You're going to feel horrible tomorrow."

Jack thought perhaps if Ianto didn't wake up with a pounding headache, he'd... well. He closed his eyes as Ianto's breathing evened out and let his thoughts wander idly to the morning. He let his fingertips play down the length of Ianto's thigh.

"Jack?" Ianto asked softly, "s'at you?"

"Of course not. It's-" But it was after one in the morning and Jack was too tired to make a joke, funny or not. Ianto twisted in his arms and slid his hands beneath Jack's t-shirt, pushing it up. Well, fine. Maybe he wasn't that tired...

Jack reached back over his shoulder to yank his t-shirt off, and pulled Ianto's off as well. He ran his palms flat over Ianto's chest through the fine hairs there, and Ianto shuddered when Jack reached his nipples. He was so incredibly sensitive, all over. Jack reveled in the infinite variety of physical responses he'd had the pleasure to personally induce. With Rose, it'd been like tuning in Tokyo. She liked it a bit rough. Ianto didn't, most of the time.

"Want a fuck." It wasn't a question, exactly.

"Do you?" Jack asked, dragging his lips in a haphazard arc along Ianto's collarbone.

"Oh yeah. Yeah, please."

"Well, since you asked so very politely..." Jack heard Ianto gasp when he pulled Ianto's boxers down, snagging them on his erection. Post-drinks, even. Oh, _youth._ Jack disposed of his own boxers and socks and reached across Ianto's chest to the bedside table for supplies and found...nothing. Damn. He slid downward over Ianto to nuzzle his cock and was rewarded with a throaty moan and fingers wending their way through his hair. "I'll be right back," Jack said, and disentangled himself from the bed linens to get his coat. Jack was always prepared.

When he returned, he found Ianto had kicked off the covers and was snoring softly. Choosing not to be offended, Jack grinned as he slid back into bed and wrapped himself around Ianto, pulling the duvet up around them.

Tomorrow -- or today, Jack corrected himself -- was Sunday, the Rift was behaving itself and there was absolutely no reason to get up early. Stifling a yawn with a nip at the nape of Ianto's neck, he drifted off, wondering what Ianto would imagine had occurred when he awoke.


End file.
